Song of Elpis
by Rothalion
Summary: Alexander nearly pays a tragic cost for his attempt to cross and tame the great Geodrosian Desert.


_**NOTE:**_ This is an old work. It was initially published for an online mag. Back in '08. I was supposed to keep it only there for several years. That time has expired so I will share it here.

_**Warnings:**_ Implied M/M

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own them, mostly historical fiction. Xenos, Milos and Argus are mine. The rest is history.

_**Song of Elpis **_

_**Alexander's Camp**_

Alexander looked up at the weary messenger. He knew what the man's report would state simply by reading the look of despair on his face. Paris, yes, that was the man's name, Alexander recalled. He was a bit young, but one of Hephaistion's finest troopers, and a good friend as well. Alexander had requested that Hephaistion place the lad in charge of a company in his own column for the march across the desert, and Hephaistion had after a brief argument agreed. He hated to part with the young man, but too, hated to disappoint Alexander.

"My lord, we found no sign of them. Once we rest and re-supply we will return to the desert immediately. I am sorry, Alexander. I tried. I tried but I did not find him."

Alexander listened to the dusty man, and nodded. "Thank you, Paris. Rest your men well before heading out again, and make certain that you are well supplied."

The weary king bent his head back down, by way of dismissing the scout, and continued to study the map on his table. It was poorly drawn, and considering the state of mind he'd been in when he scribbled the hasty notes, he doubted its accuracy. He closed his eyes, and pictured Hephaistion in his memory.

"Yes, my good friend, this must be how you felt after Mallia. Gods, Hephaistion, how did you manage to bear up under the pain and anguish of not knowing my fate.?"

Alexander let his mind slip back, and recalled their reunion. For over two weeks Hephaistion languished in a world of rumor and uncertainty unable to ascertain if Alexander was alive, or dead after taking an arrow in the chest storming the walls of Mallia. As the porters carried his litter off of the boat, and helped him step onto the shore, his generals all surrounded him with tears of joy on their faces. The cheering mass of men drowned out their words of thanks. Alexander, though, had eyes for only one face amidst the surging crowd, Hephaistion's. Where was Hephaistion? He felt a surge of panic. The last correspondence mentioned that he was well. So why was he not here? Alexander recalled looking to Ptolemy for an answer. The sadness he saw there did little to reassure him.

"Ptolemy, Hephaistion?" He'd asked, his voice not much more than a tired whisper.

"A bit farther still, Alexander. He's just over there. You know how he detests crowds."

The crowd parted a bit, and Alexander saw him. He stood alone, as always, never a part of the group. The look of sheer relief and joy on his face staggered Alexander forcing Ptolemy and Perdicass to brace him up a bit more as they steered him through the mob, and over to the stricken general. As if on cue, the crowd's cheering had ceased, and a still and heavy silence settled over the camp as the two lifelong friends moved slowly toward one another.

Alexander's relationship with the tall, silent general repulsed many of the men, but none dared to question the trueness of the love the two shared. To see them reunited was a sign of good fortune; they knew, intuitively, that without each other, if left alone the one remaining behind would soon follow on the road to death.

Alexander stood, and put on his robe as the memory slipped away. The night air was not exactly chilly, but he still had not completely recovered from the long trek through the parched Geodrosia. He took his sword and a wine skin and tramped across the slumbering camp until he came to a high ledge overlooking the vast expanse of dirt that had claimed so many lives. After lumbering up the scree slope he sat down with his legs hanging over the edge.

The sky was brilliant. A myriad of pinpoint clear stars twinkled and blinked for as far as his eyes could see. Like the eyes of Argos, he thought. Watching them, watching him, always watching.

"If you are watching my beloved Hephaistion, mighty Argos; send me a sign of his health, of his camp." He spoke to the night. "Send him a sign of my love. Send him my strength." He took a swallow of wine, and coughed hunching up at the pain it caused. "Damned Malian bastard. You were right as always, Hephaistion. I shouldn't have jumped in there alone." He lifted the wineskin to the sky, and toasted his lost friend's good judgment. "Damn you, Phaistion! You'd have done the same, and you know it! Remember Tyre you fool."

Somewhere off to his right a camp dog barked, and as the light breeze shifted he could hear the faint, thread bare melody of a flute sift past. He laughed at that. Hephaistion had taken up the instrument a few years back, and Alexander was amazed that the late blooming musician had become so proficient at it. It had taken a long time, and much cajoling before the shy general would share his new gift with Alexander. It was not theirs, he'd argued. It was for himself and Xenos, his second in command and lover, only. Alexander smiled at the memory of the old debacle. He'd managed yet again to alienate Hephaistion, and the lonely man finally gave in, and found someone, Xenos a stubborn, independent Celt, to share his time and bed with when Alexander couldn't be bothered. Xenos was with Hephaistion now. Out there, somewhere, wasting away in the furnace of their king's folly. That Hephaistion at least had Xenos at his side, eased Alexander's mind. They loved each other well, in their own fashion, and the sad king knew that if it should come to pass that death took his Hephaistion, he would not die alone.

Hephaistion. He was a master surveyor, and could live off the land for months. All this Alexander knew, but he was also horribly aware of the reality that Hephaistion's lost column was facing. There was nothing left on the land to subsist on. Alexander's far larger column had already marched over the same arid tract, and they'd left nothing behind for Hephaistion's men to scavenge. They'd laid waste to a wasteland. Hephaistion's men, once their supplies ran out, would find only a long stark alleyway of death before them. Only the bleaching bones of thousands and thousands of men and animals would greet them, and mark their passing. He shuddered to think of his friend's suffering. Having made the trek, he was more than aware of exactly the atrocities Hephaistion's column faced.

"Are you moving toward me now, Hephaistion?" He asked the dry night air. "Like that day after Mallia. Moving in slow motion, like in a dream; closer and closer to me until we were in each other's arms."

He set the wineskin aside after a long pull, and hunched his shoulders up against a stiff breeze that stirred the dusty dirt up. In the pale moonlight, he watched little dust devils pick up, and skip along the wash below him.

It seemed to take an eternity for him to reach Hephaistion that day. The man was afraid to come near him. Some weeks after the reunion he'd told Alexander that he didn't really believe that he was there. He'd been so certain that Alexander had died. Men had hammered away at him trying to convince him of the fact; knowing that a grief weakened Hephaistion would make a softer target. That he would be much more prone to succumb to their plots to remove him as Chilliarch if he could be convinced of Alexander's death. Hephaistion confessed that he feared Alexander would vanish in a puff of smoke if he touched him. Nothing more than a cruel trick of some angered god. He confessed as well that he was unsure of his own reaction to seeing his lover and friend. The last thing he needed was to break down in front of his many detractors. When they finally embraced, Hephaistion was trembling so hard that Alexander, as weak as he was, had to hold him up. The overwhelmed general clung to him tightly like a frightened child, and the wounded man was tempted to ask him to have a care, to tell him that he was hurting him. But Alexander suffered the ache in silence; out of respect for the lonely vigil he knew that Hephaistion had endured waiting for word of his condition.

Alexander sighed as he recalled the heartache he felt when he finally spoke to his companion.

"Hephaistion, the men my love. I must see that they all know that I am here."

He pulled away, took Hephaistion's face in his hands, and kissed him gently on the lips. They never touched or kissed in public, but Alexander wanted to reassure him that he was indeed home. He looked for the first time into Hephaistion's eyes, and saw just how exhausted the strong man was. To Alexander, it seemed that he'd aged ten years. Hephaistion had blinked at him and nodded. To Alexander's surprise he was not crying. Finally Ptolemy pulled him away from the stricken man, and as Ptolemy helped Alexander onto his horse he saw Xenos kneeling before a now seated Hephaistion, helping him to sip some wine.

"May the gods bring you safely home to me my gentle, Hephaistion." Alexander whispered into the darkness, and again raised his wineskin in a toast.

Far off to the east he could see the bright glow of lightning dancing on the horizon. He knew that it was just a wicked game of angry gods. The clouds would hold precious little, if any rain. He began to hum quietly, and then emboldened by his solitude louder. It was the sweet Lament that Hephaistion had learned to play first on his flute. A sad but encouraging song, it eased his heart, and as he hummed it he ordered Hephaistion to listen for it and follow the notes home.

_**Hephaistion's Column**_

As the sun began to creep into the sky, Hephaistion cursed. All of his life he'd dreaded the darkness. The isolation that besieged him when darkness sifted in, forced the light away, and filled his world with noises and sensations that he couldn't identify tore at his sanity. Sanity he had little left to spare as of late. He craved it now, the darkness. It was life. It was the only respite from the torturous life they were trapped in. Stumbling, as he looked over his shoulder, he wondered how many more they'd lost in last night's darkness. It seemed to him that each night's toll grew and grew. He growled over his left shoulder at the pink tint edging its way toward them. South. Last night they'd marched back to the south. It was, he thought to himself, like sailing a ship into the wind. Tack and jibe, tack and jibe. Inland a bit to stay near Alexander's gruesome trail, then away north or south in search of some god forsaken nettle bush and puddle of water to feed and water thousands of men on.

Hephaistion was sick. Sick and not getting any better. He tried to keep it from the men, but it was getting more and more difficult. Time and time again during last night's march, he'd dropped to his ravaged knees, and retched up the thin bile that ate away at his stomach? Despite his best efforts he'd fallen far back into the long stretched out parade of wasted souls, and it had cost him dearly to make his way back to the front. Milos had pleaded with him to just slog along for the night, and try to catch up later, but the stubborn general had refused.

Hephaistion dropped to his knees again after stumbling on a rock, and stayed there heaving for air. He no longer noticed the coarse sand and sharp stones gouging the flesh from his battered shins. The wounds were secondary to the sickness ravishing his body. Despite the cooler night temperature he could not seem to get a breath. Then, strong arms hefted him up, and herded him along. He thanked the man, and stumbled on. Xenos made his way over to him.

"Hephaistion, let's stop a little before the sun. Strike the camp while it's cool." He tried to look into Hephaistion's eyes, but they were only half slits and caked with grime. "Hephaistion, you must rest."

The words brought Hephaistion to a rickety halt. Rest. What was rest? If he rested he would sleep. If he slept he'd die if he…

"Fine, Xenos, call a halt." He muttered in tired agreement, and then wandered off to the edge of the slowly bunching column, and sat down on a rock.

Hephaistion had no idea how long he'd been sitting there. Milos, his Page, approached him, and held out a ladle with a little bit of water in it.

"Today's ration, Hephaistion. Pigeon Nose sends his apologies. The water scouts came up empty last time. Please, it is still cool, sip it."

Hephaistion took the ladle and drank. He handed it back to his young page sighing as the cool liquid eased, for a few brief moments, the burning rawness in his throat.

"Hephaistion, take it all. I've had my share." He held out the water again to his lord.

"No, Milos. Have it. I'm fine. Are you able to set the shelter?"

"Yes, Hephaistion."

"Drink that and do so. I will rest a bit before heading out to search for water."

"You mustn't, Hephaistion! You are ill!"

"I am in command. I will find us water. Now off with you lad. I must rest a bit before leaving."

Not long after the sun came up, Hephaistion made his way to what remained of the horse picket, and chose a mount. With him were Pigeon Nose, Milos and a Persian they called Hawk. They prepared their mounts, and began to leave the encampment. Xenos grabbed Hephaistion's horse's bridal and dragged the animal's head around.

"Are you mad! You will die out there, Hephaistion! You are ill and in no shape to hunt water under the sun. Send another!"

"I will do it, Xenos. If we are not back by nightfall, follow the map I've left in my shelter."

"If you're not back by nightfall! Hephaistion, see reason man. You…"

"I 'will' bring us water, Xenos. Now rest yourself. We are close I think." He looked out across the blazing landscape. "I can hear him. I can feel him."

"Who, Hephaistion?" Milos asked, fully knowing the stricken man meant Alexander. He shuddered. His lord's mind was slipping. How would he manage to keep him alive if he lost his mind?

Hephaistion looked down at Xenos, and smiled despite the pain caused by his cracked lips. Xenos saw a blaze of strength in the man's blue eyes that flickered, and then vanished, but it gave the big Celt hope.

"Alexander, he sang to me. I could hear him. He's there. The Lament. He calls to us. I heard him. There." He pointed off to the left. "Maybe two days, no more. With water we can save the company."

"It was a fever dream, Hephaistion. Come down now; let me put you to bed."

"Nightfall, Xenos. You have your orders. We will return, here. When you get back, if we have missed you, send them back to here." Then he kneed his mount forward, and the four men headed out; their backs to the burning sun.

It was just shy of mid-day when the four men, now walking to rest the horses, found a large craggy outcropping of rock. Hephaistion circled the structure around to his left. As he walked, he dragged his fingertips along the surface of the stones. The three other men stood silently in the thin finger of shade provided by the stone mound watching Hephaistion's strange behavior. He was moving agonizingly slowly. Milos feared that he would fall over. It was as if the man were concentrating, or deep in prayer. Then, he stopped and turning placed both of his hands against the side of the structure. He stayed that way for long moments until Milos having enough and finally moved forward.

"Hephaistion?"

"Shh, boy, listen."

The lad did as commanded. After a pause he too heard it. The slow and steady drip drop of water.

"Here, Milos. Place your face just here."

Hephaistion moved over, and the boy stood as the general had. He could feel the cool brush of air against his sun burned face. He turned to congratulate his lord, but Hephaistion had sunk to a seated position, and seemed out of touch.

"Hephaistion, let me get you to the shade. Come now."

Milos hauled the tired man up, and forced him to sit down once again against a rock out of the sun. From there he gave the trio their orders

"Fill the skins quickly, Pigeon. We must water the mounts, and return before Xenos moves out. There's no tailing him through the darkness without torches, and come morning no chance of reeling them in." Then Hephaistion stood, and squinting looked up into the sun. "Let's pray that the stubborn brute of a Celt disobeys me yet again, and leaves late. All we'll need is a short delay. By the gods they need this water."

It was no easy task filling the water skins. Milos and the Hawk had to climb the outcropping, lower the skins into the hidden cistern, haul the heavy sacks back up, and then lower them again down to Hephaistion and Pigeon. The men were exhausted when the task was completed, and well behind Hephaistion's schedule. The plentiful water they had to drink as they worked helped. Hephaistion, though, seemed to grow sicker. His stomach did not accept the water, and even though he sipped it slowly he retched the needed liquid back up moments later. It became frighteningly clear to the other three men that the young general would be facing the long, nearly forced march back to the column just as dehydrated as he was coming out.

Milos dug through the one small pack that Hephaistion carried. Alexander and his favorite General never left camp without a small lightweight satchel of medicinal herbs. Milos hoped he could find something there to abate his lord's vomiting. He mixed the herbs as Alexander had taught him, and carried the cup to Hephaistion.

"Hephaistion, please, I mixed it just as Alexander taught me, for the nausea, please try and sip some."

"Thank you." He sipped it slowly until the liquid was gone, and returned the cup to Milos. "Let's hope that stays down, lad." He smiled trying to reassure the frightened page. "Alright friends it's time. Mount up. Hawk and Pigeon lead the ponies. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

The small group rode out at a quick walk, the blazing sun now in their faces. Hephaistion led them steadily and confidently back toward the main group. Milos was always amazed at how the man could map the land as he rode seeming to note only stones, rocks, and dead wood. They stopped frequently to water themselves and the mounts. The column would miss the column, but in return there would be plenty for at least two days. The scouting party's consumption was insurance that the supply actually made it back.

Hephaistion, despite the medicinal draught, continued to vomit his ration of water, and Milos grew more and more concerned as the man slouched lower and lower in his seat swaying idly to the rhythm of his mount's shuffling gait. Side to side and forward and back, yet he did not fall. Then, just as the sun was at its highest point, he tumbled from the horse, and hit the hard ground with a thud. Milos dismounted, and darted to his side. He tore the cloth veil used to shield their eyes from the brutal glare of the sun from Hephaistion's face, and slapped him gently on the cheeks. Pigeon brought water, and they dribbled the cool fluid down the fallen man's throat. Hephaistion came to fighting and screaming as if trapped in a dream. Pigeon held him tightly until the episode passed.

"What?" Hephaistion asked when he was again alert. "Why are we not moving? Mount up."

"You fell, my lord." Hawk told him. Handing him a cup with a bit more of Milos' draught in it.

"You are mad! I do not fall from my horse!" He pushed the cup away and staggered to his feet. "Must go! Xenos won't disobey me for long."

They mounted up again, and headed out. No one noticed the cotton sun shield left behind on the scorched sand. Hephaistion vomited several times as he rode but managed to stay mounted. They reached the column just after dark. Xenos had waited. Disobeying Hephaistion's orders just as the exhausted man had predicted. The tired men rode up about mid-way along the rag tag string of soldiers, and Milos sped forward to order Xenos to call a halt. A short time later trusted men rationed out the water to the desperate company of men.

Hephaistion dismounted, and stood leaning against the tired horse. He tried to unfasten the harness, but his fingers wouldn't respond. He turned and started to walk away to find a boy to tend to the task. He walked, and continued to walk. Finally Hephaistion wondered why it had gotten so quiet, why the smell of sweat and grime had vanished, why he hadn't come across a boy. He stopped. Turning in a slow circle the confused man took in his surroundings. Blackness filled his view. He began to panic. There should be torches. Not many, but some; they had to conserve what they had, and moonlight, the moon had been a half-moon the night before. There should be some trickle of light.

"Milos, isn't this the horse Hephaistion was riding?" Xenos asked checking the pack for Hephaistion's possessions.

"Yes, Xenos. I thought he was with you already, Xenos."

"And I thought that he was with you." The two men looked around; reality setting in. "He must have wandered off! He was spent, and fevered not himself! Torches; bring me torches, quickly now!" Xenos ordered. "You and you go that way, find Hephaistion, you three," he paused, held a torch low to the sandy ground and studied it. It was littered with footprints, but one print stood out. A print where the right foot toed slightly in, and the weight was on the outside digging a deeper impression. Xenos would know the print anywhere. It was Hephaistion's. Several more followed. "Spread out a bit along through there. I'm certain he went that way. You, give Milos your torch. Move out."

Hephaistion simply had nothing left. He had managed to deliver the water, the column, he was certain would now make it in, and he was having a hard time convincing himself to get up and move. It was his apathy that probably saved him. The confused man stood, and stumbled forward again, but at a horribly slow pace. He stumbled and fell, stood, turned in a circle trying to get his bearings and again fell backwards onto the ground.

"Why can't I hear you Alexander? It's a duet. I'll do my part just as always, you do yours. Ready?" He began to sing, his voice quiet yet out of place in the dark desert.

"Listen!" Milos grabbed Xenos by the arm. "Listen, it's him. The song he always requests at banquets, from that way, he's wandered that way." He took off at a run despite Xenos' words of caution.

The big Celt followed at a lope, cursing both men. One of them lost was enough, but to lose them both would be a tragedy. He sped up when he heard Milos yelling.

"Xenos, he's here I have him! I have my lord!"

Xenos caught up to the pair, and stopped in his tracks. Hephaistion was stumbling in a large circle, his face turned upward to the night sky, singing as loud as his parched throat would allow him to.

Once they had the sick man back in camp Xenos called together the other commanders. It was, after a long debate, decided to march on through the night following Hephaistion's map, and then force march through the next day, and the following night. It would push their limits, but if Hephaistion was right in his reckoning they would be within scouting distance of the main camp by the second morning. Xenos would send out advanced riders, and they could return with water and wagons.

What to do with Hephaistion was another problem. Despite his rank and position with Alexander many wanted to avoid giving him special treatment. Those who could not keep up were left to die. It had been a simple rule born of desperation. Milos plead for his master's life. Swore to stay at his side no matter what. Xenos also refused to let Hephaistion die. He argued that it had been the quiet general's skills that had brought them this far. Finally it was a rank and filer who settled it. Argus, a huge bear of a man said that if needed he would carry Hephaistion on his own back until he dropped. The commanders gave in.

The column, now watered, set out with a renewed vitality. The water had been plentiful, and the ration tripled to boost morale, and energize the company. Hephaistion had come around, and they'd manage to get a bit of gruel and water in him. He held onto Milos and stumbled along. The pair along with Argus fell farther and farther back as the column passed them. Argus carried and supported Hephaistion through the night. It was not until the sun came up that they would realize the true seriousness of the stricken general's condition.

With the morning water break completed the company set out under the blazing sun. The horrible heat caused the long line of men to stretch out even farther. The weakest only being able to move in slow stages. Commanders took mounts, and made sure that water was dispersed up and down the long line. Milos, Hephaistion and Argus had fallen, along with about one hundred others so far back that they could no longer see the column. The group had water for a night and no real store of rations. They were on their own.

"We can't go on in this heat." Argus stated flatly after calling a halt. He appealed to Hephaistion to give a command, to take charge. "My lord, you must decide."

Hephaistion stood still, his face turned up staring into the blazing sun. "Stop, my lord, your eyes, you will…" He stopped as the realization hit him. Hephaistion was blind. Thinking back, Milos realized that Hephaistion must have been blind the day before as well, before they ever reached the column. He'd wandered away, and toward the end of their march back with the water he'd weaved back and forth as if drunk. Steering his mount right and left. The boy had thought that he was just tired.

"Argus, he'll give you no answer. He's blind. The sun has stolen his sight." As he spoke the words Milos' world collapsed. He remembered removing the light dimming cloth from Hephaistion's face, but in his own exhaustion he had not made the tired man replace it. He was as guilty as the sun. "See to him, Argus."

Milos then gathered the stragglers around himself, and began giving orders and offering words of support. He was concise and firm yet not forceful. He led them as if they were children. As his plans were put into place, he made his rounds checking on the most desperate and offering comforting words. Shelters were pitched, Hard Tack distributed with a ration of water, and the forgotten group bedded down to await nightfall and hopefully by the next evening help.

Later that night huddled together against the cold, Hephaistion spoke in a quiet whisper to Milos. They had no fuel for a fire and by some curse of the gods the air had become bitterly cold. Hephaistion trembled in Milos' arms, his illness sapping the little strength he had left.

"You did well. I could hear you giving orders. Fine commander, my beautiful, Milos. I am proud of you. They followed as if they knew no other leader."

Milos pushed Hephaistion's long tangled hair back from his face and kissed his sweaty forehead. He was feverish and still plagued with stomach cramps.

"They know they were coming from you, gentle Hephaistion. Please try and sleep."

"It is so dark all the time now, Milos. Where have we wandered off to? Where is this place of permanent blackness?" He shuddered. "Have we used all the torches. By the gods I tried so hard to make those last. You of all men know how I dread the dark. I…" He broke off as a fit of coughing racked his exhausted frame.

Tears slipped down Milos' cracked cheeks, and he laid his head on top of Hephaistion's, and gently rocked him. He hadn't been certain up until just then if Hephaistion was actually aware of his condition. The man had been delusional and only half awake for a very, very long time, simply stumbling along on Milos or Argus' arm.

"Yes, my kind lord, the torches are gone, but we've but one more day before help comes. I will make certain you are safe in the dark. Nothing will harm you. I know how you dislike it. Please sleep now. Please. In sleep you will hear your beautiful Alexander singing."

"Yes." He sighed, and relaxed against the smaller man. "Alexander will have my head for not keeping track of my torch supply. Yes…my…I can hear him."

Milos began to sob. He prayed that the gods would give him the strength to keep Hephaistion alive. That Alexander would not have him executed for stealing the man's eyes. He could not fathom the depth of Alexander's grief when he looked into Hephaistion's brilliant blue eyes and saw no response. He was startled from his tears when Argus called to him, quietly from just outside the shelter.

"Go boy, make your rounds. I will keep him warm. He'll not wake for a while."

Milos slid out from under Hephaistion, and watched as Argus took him in his huge arms.

"Thank you."

He turned to go and Argus' voice halted him.

"Don't' waste tears Milos. Save them. He's a tough one this lad. Seen him worse than this in Tyre when he managed to mangle that damned half gimpy leg of his. Alexander's fault if you ask me." He surprised Milos by stroking the sleeper's knotted hair. "He's got good strength. Go now; check on them, remind them just how close we are."

_**Alexander's camp**_

"Alexander, Alexander!" The young page screamed as he ran full speed toward the command tent. Without slowing he slipped between the stunned sentries, and into the tent skidding to a halt at only a hands breadth from the point of Perdicass' drawn sword.

"You boy!" the man screamed. "What's the meaning of this? Have you not been taught…"

He was cut off when the squirrely lad side stepped him with a deft twist and spin, and dropped to his bony knees before a now standing Alexander.

"Alexander, they are here! Hephaistion's column. The forward group will be in camp in a moment. Xenos is bringing them in!"

All eyes in the tent focused on Alexander.

"Xenos? You are certain of this, boy."

"Yes, Alexander, saw him myself. Rode as the return messenger from the scouts that went out to meet the column." His chest heaved as he tried to gasp for air. His fast ride and run had winded him. "Xenos rides at the head…No! No! No! No! My great king, I; No!" He prostrated himself out fully at Alexander's feet and began to sob.

Alexander took a step back, and told him to rise. He grasped the young page by the chin, told him tighten up and to go outside and insure that his horse was ready. The boy spun and raced in the direction he'd come from.

"It means naught, Alexander. He's probably bringing in the stragglers. It would be like him to take that on. Suffer the longest."

The others all murmured their agreement.

"Yes, Craterus. Maybe so." He turned and headed for the tent's exit and to their horses. "Maybe so."

Perdicass grasped his shoulder as Alexander was mounting. "Alexander, Craterus is right, make no hasty judgments."

"Yes, and what if I told you Perdicass, that for two nights now I've not seen him, or felt his presence. He's gone silent and dark on me. Would you think me crazy?"

"No, my friend, your bond is strong. It may be an omen, but until we know its meaning; have hope. He's a strong man."

Alexander sighed. "True, but ever since that bout of sickness that took him down in India, he's not been quite as strong. I worry for him."

"Come now, mount up. There are no answers here."

As they rode out to meet the approaching company, Alexander was in turmoil. He'd spent the last two nights praying that the gods would but spare him this one wound. The wound inflicted upon him by having Hephaistion ripped from his life. He received no recompense. Instead he was accosted by the memory of Hephaistion's devastating grief at no longer being able to recall the sound of his father's voice after Amyntor had died. Was that why Hephaistion had gone silent, had slipped from his acutest memory. Had he been taken, and sifted into the ever changing sands of the vast Geodrosia. The thought awakened Alexander's vengeful nature. He swore under his breath that he'd turn the barren expanse into an oasis of godlike proportions if it had indeed stolen Hephaistion from him. He'd make it fertile and wet, dig lakes and seas, flood it and take away its teeth. He'd do what the gods had not seen fit to do, make it habitable. He'd kill it by giving it life.

They pulled up, and let the forward group come the last short way to them. They were on foot. The last horses had been run into the ground in a last water reconnaissance the day before. Alexander dismounted, and walked forward to greet them. Xenos strode to him chin up and eyes tired but bright. The big warrior read Alexander's question in his gray eyes, and his control wavered.

Dropping to his knees he began to speak in a raspy voice, thick with grief and exhaustion.

"My lord. I bring you what remains of Hephaistion's Column. We are strung out for many miles. You must send wagons and water. We are desperate"

Alexander reached down, pulled Xenos to his feet and stared into the big Celt's jade green eyes for only the second time in his life. The first time had been in anger and jealousy, this time he do out of hope. The king needed no words to ask the question that he'd waited so many long weeks to ask.

"I don't know, Alexander. He was very ill. He found us the water we needed to get here, but it took what strength he had left. He ordered me to get the company home. Milos is with him. They fell very far behind with a small group of sick and wounded. Give me a short respite, and I will lead you back to them. Good mounts and plenty of water, we can reach them by morning."

"Ready our horses and gear Perdicass. Wagons with rations and water. Doctors. How soon can you ride?"

"Water and food Alexander, and I'll be ready by the time the men are gathered."

Alexander rode ahead of the wagons and supplies with Xenos and Ptolemy. He planned on cutting the time needed to reach the group in half. Fast desert mounts and the coolness of the night would make that possible. As he rode he had to squelch an odd need that he felt. He wanted Cleitus at his side. He had a feeling that he would need the old general's strength to cope with what he was going to encounter when they reached the lost stragglers. As they rode past the still marching tail end of Hephaistion's company the tired men cheered him. Their chanting and applause was lost to the king though. He could focus only on trying to feel some sign that Hephaistion was alive.

"Cleitus, what will I do if he's gone, Cleitus? My grief will be far greater than that which I suffered for you, and that nearly killed me. Would have killed me if I had been left to face without Hephaistion at my side. Who, poor lost Cleitus, who will help me suffer this?"

"Excuse me, Alexander. Did you call for Cleitus?"

"No, Ptolemy. Just an idle thought I voiced aloud. I feel somehow that I will need him, but he is gone. Xenos, if we push up to a slow gallop will the horses bear up? Is it too far for that?"

"No, Alexander, they should be fine."

"So be it. Let's ride now, men. They must feel forsaken."

The gallop paid off, and the small group of men sighted the hunkered down stragglers just after sunrise. They pushed into a full gallop, and rode down a scree slope and into the desperate camp. The lost men had built a shelter of combined canvases, and had placed the most ill beneath it. Others huddled in the shade of the makeshift structure, most simply sweltered in the sun. Milos met them as their leader. Alexander jumped from his mount, and strode quickly toward the boy. When he reached him the lad started to drop to his knees, but Alexander yanked him up.

"You are in charge here, Milos?" he asked incredulously. Looking past the young man at the throng of men behind him. "There are many present that outrank you."

"It is indeed my camp, my king. I took charge when…" He stopped, how should he say that Hephaistion lost his ability to command. "When my lord Hephaistion…" he looked into Alexander's gray eyes, and read the concern blazing in them. He also saw the one emotion he'd have never expected to find in his king's eyes, Terror.

"Speak, boy! Your lord, what?" Alexander tried but failed to keep his voice from wavering. Never in his life had he felt such terror. Not in battle or debate, or on the hunt, never. He noted the feeling, stored it away for future reference. He knew now how men felt going into battle. Terror, it was as debilitating as it was invigorating. "Milos?" He whispered, his voice thick with the fear crushing his heart. Had Philotas felt like this as he waited for the spear to reach his chest. Would Milos' words drive the arrow of grief into his pounding heart sending him to the House of Death with his Hephaistion.

"He is there, Alexander." Milos pointed to a shelter pitched in the thin thread of shade thrown off by a log. "He has been very sick, and finally could not go on. I took command. You must go to him. He calls out for you."

"Take me to him, lad. Ptolemy see to it that the water is rationed, and that the doctors begin their work. No man is to be put to the mallet and spike."

Milos led Alexander to Hephaistion's meager shelter. He was sitting up with his back against a pack. Staring out into the desert. As Alexander drew closer he noted his beloved friend's blank stare, and stopped walking.

"Is he mad?"

"No, Alexander. Hephaistion has gone blind. The sun, he forgot…and I failed to notice; forgot to wear the cotton veil as we were shown. The fault is mine, I offer you my life in return." He prostrated himself at the king's feet.

Alexander continued to stare at Hephaistion as Milos spoke. When the boy threw himself down, the king finally looked away, and noticed the sobbing page at his feet. He too dropped to his knees and pulled Milos up to face him.

"You have given all these men their lives, good Milos, I'll not take your life. The error was not yours."

"He was my charge, Alexander. He…"

Alexander shook his head and tears slipped down his cheeks as well. "No. The error is mine. All of these men were my charge, and it is because of my folly that they have died in droves and suffered. Come now…"

"Alexander? Is that you, Alexander?" The voice was a weak whisper.

The two men looked at one another, and then at the wasted man in the shelter. He was looking right and left and rocking slowly.

"Milos. Why is it taking so long for the sun to rise, Milos? We are closer; Alexander is louder."

"He does not know, Alexander. The fever keeps him very confused. I thought it best if I just went along."

Alexander squeezed Milos' shoulder and sighed. "Fetch him food and water and my pack, bring a doctor."

With a short prayer to Asclepius Alexander made his way to Hephaistion. He stepped up to the lean-to quietly, and knelt down in front of the rocking general. Weeping, he grasped Hephaistion gently by the shoulders to still him.

"Milos, Argus? Is there not a single torch to be had? It's too dark. Hate the dark. Milos?" He looked side to side trying to see through the blackness that clouded his vision. Then he gasped and began to tremble. "Alexander?" He reached up and fumbled with the king's hair. "Alexander?"

Alexander watched the sky blue eyes, eyes that once held such joy, eyes that he loved to see life through, and have smile at him, frantically searching for a glimpse of their king.

"I'm here, Hephaistion, right here." He pulled him into his arms and held him. His heart broke at the feel of Hephaistion's wasted body. His thick frame was now thin and bony. So frail that Alexander began to panic. Hephaistion kept repeating his name over and over. "Shh now. It's all over, your safe, and your men are safe. Xenos marched them into camp yesterday. I'm here to take you home."

"So dark. Damned torches ran out." He began to cough violently and threw up. "So tired of being sick. You didn't bring torches, Alexander. There are things in the desert in the dark. I stayed alive to see you again, it's too dark and…" Coughing once again shook him.

"No, we traveled light for speed." He pushed him away a bit and took his shaking hands in his own and placed them on his cheeks. Hephaistion touched his lips and nose, his eyes. He ran his weakened fingers through Alexander's hair. "See, it's me, Hephaistion." He again took the sick man hands and gently pushed him down onto the tattered bedroll. "Lie back and rest. You're fevered. Milos is bringing you food and water and medicine." He leaned forward and kissed Hephaistion's cracked lips.

"Xenos is safe?" He sighed and closed his eyes. "I heard you singing."

"Yes. He's here. He led us back to you."

"He's a good man, I know you hate him because he loves me." His voice was strained. Alexander knew the effort talking was costing him.

Alexander brushed Hephaistion hair back and off his sweaty forehead. "Don't hate him love, just a little jealous. You know how much I hate to share the things I cherish. Shh, now you must not talk so much. Save your strength. Shh, my love. Shh."

Milos returned with the items that Alexander had requested, and after a brief argument, did as Alexander had ordered him to do, and went to rest. The doctor and Alexander tended to Hephaistion as much as possible readying him for last stage of the long journey home. They managed to get a little broth in him and some water, as well as the draught for staving off the vomiting. The entire time the two men treated him, Hephaistion mumbled, and talked of many things. Most made little sense, his feverish mind and exhaustion keeping him wrapped in a cloud of confusion. They would wait for the wagons and extra supplies to arrive the next morning, and head out then.

Alexander spent the night with his beloved friend. He held him, and soothed him when the cramping ravaged his thin frame. Twice he awoke in terror, screaming his voice a raspy whisper. He begged Alexander to get him a torch. The night was long and painful for both men. When Hephaistion began to tremble in fear at imagined threats, Alexander tried talking to him and rocking him. It didn't work. The more Hephaistion struggled to fight the imagined foes the more he coughed. The coughing in turn caused him to vomit. Alexander was panicking, terrified that Hephaistion was going to die fighting fever driven hallucinations. Then in a sudden moment of lucidity he shuddered, and in a barely audible whisper asked Alexander to sing to him.

"Hephaistion, please you know…"

"Alexander, just…this once…been too long…Pella, the waterfall, the day we first gave 'selves to one another…that song…love you, you know. I…"

Then he slipped away again as his fevered mind created more creatures for him to battle. After he threw up once more, and the vomit was tinged with blood Alexander started singing.

The king sang softly at first fearful of hearing his own voice, but grew bolder as the song smoothed out, and the notes found their proper tones. Over and over he repeated the song, and Hephaistion finally fell into a deep sleep. Alexander was pleased that his beloved companion's breathing was even, less labored, and that the trembling that had wracked his body most of night had stopped.

Outside of the shelter men came from the camp, and sat down on the cool sand to listen to their king sing. None had ever heard his voice raised in song, they'd only been told the tale of Philip's cruel treatment of his young son so many years ago after Alexander sang beautifully at court. Too beautifully for Philip's likening, and harsh ruler had punished the young boy for his talent.

It would be two weeks before Hephaistion was strong enough, and aware enough to be told of his sun blindness. The doctors were unsure if, with rest, his sight would return, and the news devastated the still healing man. Blindness was death knell in the Macedonian hierarchy. He would be unable to fight, or even to serve as a secretary, there was nothing he could do to serve Alexander if his sight didn't return. Alexander wished that he'd was able to stay with him night and day, but his duty kept him away. Having nearly lost his companion he found himself overprotective and possessive. He'd even argued with Xenos. Alexander had mentioned to the man that in a way the blindness was a blessing, it would keep Hephaistion out of harm's way. A selfish thought, but a part of Alexander couldn't help but embrace the idea.

Once Hephaistion was eating again, and his weight was building, Alexander took him on walks. His eyes were kept bandaged with healing poultices, and Alexander would describe the passing scenery as they strolled. They didn't talk about the blindness, it was a bridge that neither man seemed able to cross. Strangely enough, Hephaistion was not worried about losing Alexander's love or respect because of his condition, something the king had feared. With time he knew that they would discuss it, he simply needed to wait.

_**Carmania**_

Two months after Hephaistion's return, Alexander held a grand banquet to celebrate the end of the desert march in Carminia. The banquet would be the first time Hephaistion would be at court, and he was nervous. He had no desire to be coddled, yet he was well aware that he had enemies that would take advantage of his condition if they could. Alexander wanted to assign him a personal guard but he refused him.

"Then, you'll be seated at my couch. No, Hephaistion no more arguing. That's my decision. Roxane will be seated with her women, and you will sit at my side."

The night went well. Alexander moderated his wine drinking, and helped Hephaistion as much as possible, and as subtly as possible. The injured man even managed a smile, and to laugh at Perdicass' bad jokes. The night ended on a merry note after Ptolemy goaded them into singing a duet. The men were still talking about how hearing their king sing in the desert had healed their hearts, and lifted their spirits. They begrudgingly agreed, and sang the song that Alexander had used to get Hephaistion through that long final night in the desert. It was a song of love and desire, but no one at the diner would wish anything else for the two men singing it. No one who had seen the empty stare that now filled Hephaistion's once beautiful eyes could claim not be deeply saddened by his plight. Many, in fact, had apologized for their cruel treatment of Hephaistion, because of his love for Alexander. They still had one another because of the strong bond between them. The very bond that had caused such rancor, had proven that it could not be broken. That bond was now plain to all and few still doubted it.

As they walked back to Alexander's rooms that night Hephaistion stopped, and pulled the king aside. He reached out, drew his friend to him, and kissed Alexander deeply. Then, he pulled away and rested his forehead on Alexander's chest, as he ran his fingers softly up and down his arms, raising goose bumps on his companion's spine.

"Can I stay with you tonight, Alexander? I need…I want to love you. I want to, need to feel you. It's been far too long, and… No, I'm sorry. I should not have. I…It's just so dark, Alexander."

Alexander reached out, and pushed a strand of hair behind Hephaistion's ear. "It's alright my love. Come now. Show me what you have planned. Has that naughty Xenos taught you anything new?" Laughing, they made their way to Alexander's rooms.

Alexander, seated Hephaistion, and poured two cups of wine. Hephaistion was removing his sandals when the king returned. "You have beautiful feet you know." Hephaistion looked up and smiled.

"Yes, Alexander, and you should see the things that I can do with my beautiful toes. They rival Bagoas' wildest tricks." He stuck out his feet, and wiggled them.

"Now now leave poor Bagoas…"

"Ehh? Turnabout is fair play Alexander. Besides, Xenos didn't teach them to me, the toe tricks, Argus did."

"Argus!" Alexander spluttered out spitting up his mouthful of wine. "Argus! That oaf of a, of a…one eared, fat nosed, what is he now? Phalanx still? Argus, Hephaistion!"

Hephaistion was laughing. Laughing hard. Harder than Alexander could remember hearing him laugh in a very long time. A deep chested baritone laugh that filled the room, and warmed his heart. He was leaning back in his chair with his head tilted back, shaking in his merriment.

"What!" Alexander bellowed at him. "By the gods, you silly fool, what!"

"Oh, my Alexander. It's two months now that I have been trapped in this forsaken, black world, and yes I do yearn to see; yes, I despair at this curse; but Alexander, now; just now is the first time that I would have sacrificed anything to have my eyes back. Even only for a moment. Just long enough to have seen the look on your face. Argus! Are you addled Alexander. I love the man. He saved my life, but toe tricks in bed with him…he's not my type."

"Arghh you ass! Come now, on the bed with you. First you ravage me, and then…"

"You'll be too worn out to return the pleasure."

"Quite the jokester tonight, Hephaistion." He dragged him up from the chair, and led him to the big bed. "Get out of those clothes."

"Can't. Can't see. You will have to…"

Alexander ripped the cotton tunic in half, and yanked it off his lover's body. "See where whining will get you." He teased, and pushed him down onto the pillow crowded bed.

"Hmm." Hephaistion mumbled as he rolled over, and stretched out on his back. "Should have started whining a long time ago then."

He startled a bit when Alexander stretched out over him.

"Shh, just me." He reached up and started to undo the cotton bandage on Hephaistion's eyes. Hephaistion reached up, and stopped him.

"Don't." Alexander heard the fear in Hephaistion's voice and kissed him to reassure the frightened man that it was alright. "They are dead. You mustn't look into them. They are no longer the glittering blue that you recall."

"You are wrong, my love. They are as blue as ever, and I love them just the same. I have to see you, all of you. Now don't spoil the mood you have so deftly created." He removed the bandage and tossed it aside.

"Alexander."

"What?" he replied staring down into the azure pools that defined Hephaistion. The joy was still there. The love was still there. Hephaistion's soul was still there. The light that was uniquely Hephaistion shown from the inside out even though light no longer found its way in.

"Nothing." He arched upward, and ground his hips impatiently against Alexander's. "God I want to be inside of you."

Alexander laughed. "It's dark in there. Will," he pushed himself up and looked down at Hephaistion's cock. "he be able to find his way?"

Hephaistion pulled him down, and kissed him hard their teeth cracking together. Then he rolled them over so that he was atop Alexander.

"No matter, my sense of touch has improved dramatically."

Alexander rolled them again reclaiming his original position. "Yes, but I have heard that some people do this with blindfolds. It enhances the experience."

Hephaistion rolled them yet again. "And I suppose you have absolutely no personal experience with that little game."

"None, my love. None." He rolled them, and pinned Hephaistion down hard.

"I see. Who ties the scarf? You or Bagoas?" He squealed when Alexander bit his nipple, and then tried to leverage Alexander again, but the stronger man didn't budge this time.

"Roll again, and we're on the floor my lovely, Hephaistion."

"Liar."

"Maybe. Now be still and let me ravage you. That was the plan, no?"

Alexander did just that. He taunted, tickled, licked, stroked, and pleasured Hephaistion until the man was nearly screaming for him to just stop and finish it. When it was over, it was Hephaistion who was too spent to reciprocate the ravaging. Alexander held him while the ravished man let wave after wave of residual sensations course through his body. Finally he rose up on his elbow, and leaned over his lover. He kissed Hephaistion's closed eyes, and then very gently his lips.

Hephaistion opened his eyes, and looked up at Alexander. He reached up and tentatively touched the scar on Alexander's left cheek. He blinked, and rubbed his thumb across it.

"Hephaistion?" Alexander studied his face,

"Hmm?"

"You can see that?"

"Very, very fuzzy. It comes and goes. Depends on the day. Just now it's pretty good. Shadows mostly, but I can make things out. It goes away though, and that when I feel the worst."

"Oh Hephaistion! I am so sorry."

"I'm alright. I didn't want to get your hopes up, so I kept it quiet. Lately though the spells last longer and longer. I can't see enough to read, but soon I think I will be able to get around on my own." He pushed up on his elbows and kissed Alexander.

"You've taken this very well. After your initial reaction I was worried Hephaistion."

Hephaistion shrugged. "Alexander, if all I have left is a shadowy vision of you, and an occasional night like this, and the certainty of our love, I will be alright. The fighting, the blood…I no longer desire it, Alexander. I am tired. Very tired. Some part of me died out there in that desert. Just what part I'm not quite sure, but it died. I want just to be able to live a little bit more. There's been too much death as of late. Too much." He sighed and pushed his fingers through Alexander's tussled hair. "At Mallia, Alexander, when I saw you standing there, so close but still a world away, I truly thought that you would vanish. I truly thought that you were dead and naught but a shade. I…I couldn't hear you. Like with my father. It was so quiet."

"Shh." Alexander kissed him very softly. "Make love to me, Hephaistion. Now, please and easy. Gently like we used to do. I'm alive, and you are alive, and maybe you'll have your sight again, and maybe…" he stared into Hephaistion's eyes, "Hephaistion, could you hear me singing to you in the desert?"

"Yes. On the wind. The Lament. Humming. You showed me the way home."

"When you lost your sight, I lost you. I couldn't feel you, or see you in my mind any longer, I was terrified, Hephaistion. I have never before felt fear like I felt waiting for Milos to tell me your fate. Have you felt that kind of terror?"

Hephaistion nodded. "You know all my greatest fears, my love." Hephaistion kissed him, and ran his hands up and down Alexander's back and ass. "Now no more of this talking. I have a job to do, and your banter is keeping from it."

"True enough." He kissed Hephaistion's sleepy eyes again, and rolled over submissively. "Easy now, like a whisper." The look in Hephaistion's eyes told him that he would get his wish. No more words were needed between them. Their eyes would speak, and their bodies would sing a song of love.


End file.
